


then we'll do that together too

by aerxplane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Panic, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark-centric, i wrote this after infinity war because i had feelings, mentioned Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), there's stony if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerxplane/pseuds/aerxplane
Summary: Okay is a relative word, and it doesn’t work here.  It’s too fluid and adaptable, when everything that’s happened is rock hard and staring them all in the face.





	then we'll do that together too

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [after the end of the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432709) by [writedeku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writedeku/pseuds/writedeku). 



> im REALLY bad at summaries i honestly never know what to write there help
> 
> um obvious infinity war spoilers and uh this was my attempt at angst uh yea :/

Tony feels it like a weight in his stomach, dropping until it tears through his body like a virus and he can’t move, he can’t breathe, his vision goes white along the edges and _oh god, this hasn’t happened in years_ , because he feels it about to take over, the blinding panic, and he has no control anymore, he _can’t_ control it anymore, when—

 

“Get up.”

 

The android.  He had forgotten about her.  He shakes his head numbly, and his body aches all over, like he can finally feel everything that his body's been strung through.

 

“I can’t.”  He gasps, and the truth of it is a slam to the chest, a blow harder than anything he just felt, because he _failed_ .  Half the universe is gone and it’s _his fault_.  They’re all dead, Strange, the Guardians, and _oh god—_

 

“Yes you can.”

 

The android strides, over, grabbing his arm and yanking him up, roughly.  His legs refuse to work and he collapses. He can hear the tiny, almost imperceptible hum of the android’s neck joints as she shakes her head angrily.

 

“You don’t get to just _give up_.”  She shakes him like a rattle toy, almost like she’s trying to force the sense into him.

 

“People like you don’t get to give up.  They don’t get the luxury.” When Tony doesn’t say anything, she continues on, her voice like grinding metal.

 

"The sorcerer gave up the _Time Stone_ for you.   Your life cost half the universe, it cost my sister, so you don’t get to sit here and feel sorry for yourself.”

 

 _Her sister_.  He briefly remembers the girl that she and Star-Lord had been talking about.  It must have been her, and strangely enough, that’s the part that makes his eyes focus, and he finally looks up at her, his blank eyes into her angry ones and he nods.  It’s a small nod, but she takes it as a strong affirmative and hoists him to his feet with a strength that he didn’t know she had.

 

The perks of being an android, he supposes.  Then he gives her a once-over and realises with horror that she isn’t all android.  There’s a chunk of her face where he can see her bleeding, and a few of her fingers too.

 

“What _happened_ to you?”  Tony blurts out before he can stop himself, but she just turns back to look at him, and her eyes are real too.  Every other part of her is android though, machinery that spits oil and churns a thousand gears and he briefly wonders whether that’s why she didn’t go like the rest of them.

 

“Thanos happened.”  She says, simply. “And after I get you back to Earth, I’m going to chase him to the ends of the universe and make him pay for what he did to my sister.”

 

“Gamora, right?”  Tony tries, remembering the name from the midst of Quill’s anguish.  The android stops, her limbs freezing and whether they’re robotics or not, it’s an emotional reaction.  Then she nods. If it’s even possible, a light flush spreads over her blue face and it’s a cool, controlled anger, one that she seems to have mastered after everything she’s been through.  The machinery threaded through her blood answers that question.

 

He learns later that her name is Nebula.

 

* * *

 

He tries to ask her to stay when she drops him off in Wakanda, but realises too late that she left without a goodbye.  Tony’s used to trusting his instincts and his gut tells him that Nebula is racing to her death, that Thanos can crush her like a grape.  Then he wonders if that’s what she’s aiming for. Either way, she has his respect.

 

He only has to take one look around him, and he knows that they lost here as well.  There’s dust spilling over every cleft in the ground and his boots come away grimy and blood-soaked with every step he takes.  Wakanda is in ruins, and he dreads of what he finds in the capital.

 

It doesn’t take him long to find out, because a speeder appears from afar, so he sits down on the ground and waits, holding his abdomen as if Thanos’ stab wound has only just come into play, the pain finally seeping down, deep into his bones.

 

The person on the speeder is a slim, dark-skinned woman with her head shaven, dressed in bright red and gold, holding a spear as if it lived in her hand.  She is alone, and her eyes are dark. She might have been crying, but her expression is too fierce to tell.

 

He holds up his hands as a sign of peace, still in the Iron Man suit, and he can feel the warm air sifting through open gaps in his armor, worn from fighting and he suddenly feels cold, more vulnerable than he ever has in his life.  The woman on the speeder somehow sees this in his eyes, in his stance, because she sighs and extends a hand, helping him aboard.

 

He nods in thanks.  “Tony Stark.” She looks back at him, and a spark of resignation flares in her eyes, although nowhere near hopeful.  “Okoye.” She introduces herself. “There are some people you should see.” Her voice trembles, and it’s the closest Tony’s been to concerned in a while.

 

“Hey.”  He reaches out a titanium-clad hand to rest on her shoulder, but on second thought pulls it back.  “What happened here?” He asks instead.

 

Okoye doesn’t look back, but he can see her back straightening in an attempt to contain herself.  “Thanos happened.” She says, simply, the the weight of her words are heavy in his chest and somehow, he _knows_.

 

“T’Challa?”  Tony asks.

 

Okoye finally crumples, and he watches her knuckles pale as her grip on the spear tightens.  When she turns back to look at him, tears are sparkling in her eyes and she’s dismally beautiful, and twice as tragic.  She doesn’t have to say anything, and he sighs.

 

“Just show me who’s left.”

 

* * *

 

He sees Bruce first, beaten and bloody, lying hopelessly on a white operating bed and Tony’s heart drops like a stone.  

 

“Bruce.”  He breathes, and maybe there’s hope after all because _Bruce is here_ but then his head snaps up and he scrambles off of the platform like it’s lava, _running_ towards Tony and then there really is hope.

 

He barely has time to shrug off what remains of the Iron Man suit before Bruce is collapsing into him and he’s _sobbing_ and all Tony can do is cling onto him and rock him, as Bruce mutters “thank god” like a mantra into Tony’s chest.  “Hey, no.” Tony protests. “Get back on the bed, you need to rest.” Bruce shakes his head. “You look awful.” Tony adds and Bruce laughs, or maybe sobs.

 

They’re both crying now, and Bruce is shaking his head at Tony.  “He wouldn’t come out.” He mumbles.

 

Tony’s mind draws a blank.  “What do you mean? Who wouldn’t come out?”  Bruce looks at him pleadingly and sighs. “ _Hulk_.  He won’t come out.  I had to fight in the Hulkbuster.  It wasn’t— it’s not—"

 

“Hey,” Tony cuts him off sharply.  “It’s not your fault. _Hey_.”  He says it with an intensity that surprises even him, because he knows how Bruce beats himself up about stuff like this.  “It’s not your fault. Say it.”

 

Bruce blinks, and holds his eyes closed longer than necessary, Tony counts.  “It’s not my fault.” He eventually says, sad and quiet, and Tony hates it. He slaps him on the back, although there’s no comfort behind it for either of them.  “There we go. Take me to the others now, sport.”

 

Bruce knows what he means.

 

* * *

 

The next person Tony sees is Thor, sitting on a white leather sofa stained with blood and he finds that he isn’t very surprised.  If anyone were to survive, it would have been the God of Thunder. What _does_ surprise him, is the look in Thor’s eyes, and it’s like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over his head because he looks _dead._ Tony can’t believe that this is _Thor_ with his stupid blond hair and he grimaces, walking over and sitting by him.

 

Thor startles, like he wasn’t even aware, and a tired grin breaks out over his face.  Tony welcomes the hug for once in his life, even if it feels like the remaining bones he has have broken, because it means that they’re both there, they both made it.

 

“Stark.”  Thor’s low drawl is just like Tony remembered.  “I’m glad you’re alive.” He knows what Thor is saying is true, but there’s something in his voice that he can’t place.

 

“Thor.”  He says slowly.  “What happened?” Almost on cue, the God’s face darkens and he shuts his eyes in despair.

 

“Thanos happened.  And it’s my fault.”  He says slowly, and the bucket of water tips all over Tony again.  “Okay.” He says, and slaps the sofa next to him, almost angrily.

 

"I’ve had enough of all of you blaming yourselves, okay?”  He’s talking to Bruce as well, who stands in the doorway watching, and Tony speaks again.  “None of you knew what was going to happen, okay? _It wasn’t your fault._ ”   _Because it was mine,_ a voice whispers in his head. _"_ Don’t you dare pin this on yourselves, it’s just the survivor’s guilt—"

 

“Loki’s dead.”  Thor cuts him off and sinks further into the sofa, and the dead look in his eyes makes sense now.  “ _No resurrections this time._ It’s what he said when he killed him.”  Tony doesn’t have to ask who. They all know.  He closes his eyes. “And my father.” Thor continues.  “Heimdall, my best friend. My sister.” Tony opens his eyes, but doesn’t question it.  He doesn’t need to know. Doesn’t need another life to feel guilty for.

 

“They’re all dead.”  Thor is talking to everyone, and no one at the same time.  “I have no one to lose anymore.” His voice breaks, and Tony won’t let him cry.  He stands.

 

“Hell no.  You don’t get to say that.  You don’t get to— you have us.  You have me and Bruce and _whoever_ else survived, you have us.  So unless _all of us_ go too, you aren’t alone.  Got that, Point Break?”

 

The old nickname makes Thor look up at him, and a grim smile spreads across his pained face.  “Got it, Stark.”

 

“And you got me.”  A voice sounds from across the room, another person appears besides Bruce in the doorway, and Tony nearly collapses in relief.

 

“Hey man,” James Rhodes walks forward and takes Tony’s extended hand.  “You gotta try harder to get rid of me.” Tony laughs, the first genuine laugh for a while and takes Rhodes in for a hug.  “Rhodey, Rhodey… should have known you survived.” He can’t stop the smile spreading over his face, despite everything. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t leave me alone for one goddamn second.”  And Rhodey smiles too and they’re alright for a minute.

 

Tony thinks that this is a blessing, how Bruce is alive and Thor is alive and _Rhodey_ is alive, but then he thinks about it as a whole and sighs.  “Is this all?” He asks. Rhodey’s eyes soften. “I’ll take you to one.”  He says, and Tony’s mind whirls.

 

* * *

 

But when Rhodey walks him through a doorway and the first thing Tony sees is a long spear not unlike the one Okoye had propped neatly up against the wall, he knows.  He doesn’t recognise the blonde hair at first, but then everything in him crumples and soars in relief. “You triple imposter.” He mutters, and he hears a soft Russian curseword as she turns.

 

The smile that crosses her face is nearly blinding, and Natasha Romanoff has never looked so perfect.  “Stark, you son of a bitch.” Her husky voice is music to his ears as she stands up and crosses the room in three long strides. Then she punches him across the face and he groans appropriately.  Rhodes is nowhere to be found and he silently curses him.

 

“That’s for two years ago.”  She says. “And this is for everything else.”  When she hugs him, throwing her arms around his neck, it’s the most touchy she’s been ever since they met eight years ago, and he loves her so, so much.

 

“I’m glad you’re here, Tony.”  She says into her ear, and he clutches her harder, everything he wants to say told to her in the way his hands grasp her back, and she knows.  Natasha Romanoff always knows when he wants to say _I’m sorry_ or _thank god you’re alive_ or _I’ve missed you_ , and she always knows when he’s hurting.

 

“Wow, Romanoff.  Is this the most sentimental I’ve ever seen you?”  Natasha smirks and releases him. “Sentimentality is for dying, Stark.  And I’m extremely alive and plan to stay that way, thank you very much.”  But her gaze softens, because nothing ever escapes her. “Something happened.”  She murmurs, and Tony refrains from stating the obvious because he feels it again, the panic that he’s been trying so hard to keep down, to forget about.

 

 _Someone’s died_ , he can see her lips mouth to herself, almost imperceptible, and the ground beneath him tips, and he lets out a dry sob, turning away from her, feeling his face crumple and he wants to run and hide.  “Not now.” He mutters, and Natasha gets it, _of course_ she would be the one to understand pushing things away and he’s grateful that she’s here.

 

Then something that he can’t read flashes through her eyes and she starts.  “Roof.” She states. “Come on, I’ll take you there.” She takes him gently by the arm and leads him to the end of the hall, where a set of gray elevator doors slide open monotonously.  They step in and the doors close behind them. Tony looks down at her gratefully, and Natasha purses her lips. The light filtering from outside the elevator shaft skims over her face in an even pattern in flashes of white.  

 

“You have to talk to someone.”  She says. "Now, I don’t care whether it’s me or not, but—“ the words from her mouth drift to a stop as the doors open and Tony stares.  Because out of all the options that he went through, every single possible outcome, he had been prepared to make sacrifices, to say goodbye to people, he had prepared to say goodbye to _him_.  

 

Except he had never imagined an end when they both survived, but here they were and Tony could recognise the man standing opposite him anywhere.

 

Natasha says something but she sounds like she’s underwater, because _he_ just caught sight of Tony and he’s staring too.  Natasha leaves silently, the elevator closing behind her.

 

* * *

 

“Tony.”  Steve says, and it hurts _so much_.

 

Then, a quiet “we made it” jolts him back to reality, and it’s _Steve’s voice._

 

“Yeah, look at us.”  He echoes.

 

Steve purses his mouth in a straight line and extends his hand.  “Bury the hatchet?” He asks timidly, and his blue eyes take Tony back to a place when the snow flew around them in frenzied circles. where Steve’s eyes flashed and made him a very different proposal.

 

Tony takes it and their grip is firm.  “Consider it buried.”

 

He feels like there should be trumpets sounding, maybe some confetti and a little glitter, but there’s only the setting sun against them, and the cool wind blowing specks of dust through the air, and he feels nothing at all.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Tony.”  

 

Tony nods, but it doesn’t feel the same.  “You too.” He says, and that part is true, atleast.

 

“We’re going to be okay.”  Steve says simply, and straightens his back.  Tony can see his quick mindset swap from just-fought-a-war to I-can-give-a-pep-talk.  “We all lost people today, okay? But we’re gonna get through this, together.”

 

 _Together._ The word echoes through Tony’s mind.  Of a long time ago, when the universe wasn’t at stake and things were so much… simpler.

 

 

_How are you guys planning on beating them?_

 

**Together.**

 

_We’ll lose._

 

**Then we’ll do that together too.**

 

“You hear me?  We’ll be okay."

 

 _Okay_ is a relative word, and it doesn’t work here.  It’s too fluid and adaptable, when everything that’s happened is rock hard and staring them all in the face.  Steve is doing the thing where he tries to shield all of them from everything, like what he did to Tony when Loki attacked six years ago and when he created Ultron, and now he’s watching Tony like he’s a fragile object on the verge of shattering and Tony hates it, _hates_ the way it makes him feel so small, like a child.  It’s the reason he threw the first punch at Steve two years ago and it’s the reason why he wants to throw another punch right now.

 

_“You hear me?  We’ll be okay."_

 

And this is where Tony breaks.

 

“Don’t shit me, Rogers.  My boy is dead!”

 

And there it is.

 

It’s the first time he’s truly acknowledged it since it happened and it hurts so much more than he thought, because it all comes flooding back and his name bursts out like lightning and he just can’t— _Peter_ .   _He had stars in his eyes and believed in Tony until the very end and he couldn’t save him, all he could do was cling onto him and try not to cry, he had to keep a brave face for him,_ needed _Peter to think he was safe but the way he sobbed his name broke Tony’s heart and he wished he had never gotten attached to this naive, impulsive, clingy_ brave, selfless, intuitive, _perfect kid that he never thought he would have to let go of.  And he couldn’t even say anything, just a feeble “you’re fine” that they both knew was a lie and—_

 

“Tony?”  Steve concerned voice filtered through, but—

 

 _Mr. Stark?  I don’t feel so good._  And Tony is crying.

 

A hand reached out.  “Tony, hey.”

 

 _I don’t wanna go, please Mr. Stark, save me, save me, I don’t wanna go._ Tony is dying.  This is must be how it feels to die, this unimaginable pain in his chest, like a fire has been lit in his mind, he—

 

“Tony I’m sorry, I didn’t know.  It’s the kid, right? The one from—"

 

“—Queens.”  They say simultaneously, and Tony looks up.  “You remembered.” He mumbles weakly, his mind still spinning with _oh god_ _Peter_.

 

“Of course.”  Steve sighs. “He’s hard to forget.”  Tony flinches slightly, and Steve squats down next to him.  Tony wasn’t aware that he had fallen down.

 

“Hey.  We’re not going to forget him.”  Steve promises, and Tony wants to leave, to run, anything to stop the endless torrents of guilt cascading down over his shoulders, _drenching_ him in the shame, in the sadness, and he can still hear “ _Mr. Stark”_ echoing in his head and he—

 

“We’re _never_ going to forget him.”

 

Steve’s voice finally, _finally_ cuts through, breaks him out of his spiral and he looks up, seeing him for what really seems like the first in a long time.

  
“ _Rogers._ ”  He chokes, and it’s like a weight in his stomach, dropping until it tears through his body like a virus and he can’t move, he can’t breathe, his vision goes white along the edges and he feels it about to take over, the blinding panic, and he has no control anymore, he _can’t_ control it anymore— and then he’s sobbing and Steve’s holding him and everything falls away and they’re _Steve and Tony_ again, like before Thanos and before the Accords _,_ and they're helpless and broken and beaten down and it finally feels the same again.

**Author's Note:**

> as you can see uh, infinity war upset me
> 
> comments + kudos are greatly appreciated, thanks for reading :)


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